


The Supermarket

by Bolt_DMC



Series: The Bolt Chronicles [7]
Category: Bolt (2008)
Genre: Friendship, Grocery Store, Humor, Juggling, Magic, Movie Reference, Music, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Slapstick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolt_DMC/pseuds/Bolt_DMC
Summary: Bolt, Mittens, and Rhino are trapped in a car trunk while playing hide-and-seek, where unbeknownst to them, they're headed off to the supermarket. Turns out there's a good reason why pets aren't normally allowed inside; slapstick hilarity ensues from the trio of mischief-makers, with plenty of intensive aisle cleanup necessary. Primary cultural and historical references include songs by The Clash and The Cars; TV shows such as "Are You Being Served," "Mr. Bean," "Fawlty Towers," "Keeping Up Appearances," "Avatar: The Last Airbender," and "M*A*S*H"; the musical "Stomp"; movies by Harold Lloyd; animated characters Speedy Gonzales and Winsome Witch; cultural icons James Bond and King Kong; and the Meriwether Lewis and William Clark Expedition.
Series: The Bolt Chronicles [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041639
Comments: 23
Kudos: 11





	The Supermarket

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piandaoist (piandaoist)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piandaoist/gifts).



> Timeline: April 2009
> 
> For Piandaoist

I. The Right Profile

“Go ahead -- pick a card, any card at all,” implored Bolt. He held a clutch of playing cards splayed out face down in his right front paw. With a goofy giggle, Rhino snatched a random offering from the center of the fan.

The dog meditated thoughtfully while covering his eyes. “Don’t show it to me, okay? I’m gonna guess your card using only mental telepathy and supersonic air molecule vibrations.” Bolt’s mouth tightened into a frown of extreme concentration. “I see… I see… Ummm, I’m getting a distinct black card vibe here -- no wait, I take that back -- it’s red. Definitely a red card, though it’s kind of faint, as I don’t see that color very well. And… and… I’m perceiving a face now. A woman’s face. I’m almost positive of that.” With a sage nod of the head, the dog declared, “Queen of diamonds. Your card is the queen of diamonds, am I correct?”

Rhino shook his head and grimaced, looking disappointedly at the six of spades in his paws. “Well, you almost got it right. I mean, you accurately identified it as a card this time. If you keep practicing, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

The little shepherd sighed. “No -- I think the spirits are just uncooperative this morning. Must be a disturbance in the space-time continuum or something like that.” He tossed the deck of cards away to his left and grabbed three nearby plastic cups. “Maybe I’ll have better luck with these instead.”

Mittens pushed open the door to the study and scampered out.

“Oh, there you are,” said Bolt. “You’re missing my new act. Have a seat.”

The cat rolled her eyes. “Somehow, I’ve got a feeling I’ll need to take this standing up. Y’know, in case I wanna make a fast getaway,” she chuckled. “Anyway, I was busy listenin’ to a whole bunch of tunes I’ve never heard before. Penny’s biology lab partner dropped off another one of those home-burned CDs crammed with classic 80s goodies.”

“Persistent, isn’t she?” asked Rhino. “She’ll get Penny off the Britney Spears express train or die trying. What’s on it this time?”

“Stuff by some group called The Cars, mostly,” Mittens replied. “There’s some ace tracks like ‘Magic’, ‘Bye Bye Love’, ‘Good Times Roll’, and ‘Let’s Go’ on it. I’ll have to play it for you one of these days.”

“Okay, okay -- back to the show,” said the dog with a touch of impatience. “Observe. The paw is quicker than the eye. I will now produce a ball under each of these vessels when I say the magic words ‘Ippity, Pippity, Pow’.” He pointed first to his left front foreleg (pretending he had a shirt sleeve) while incanting “Nothing up here,” then to his right while repeating, “Nothing up here.”

“And nothing up here!” laughed Mittens as she pointed to the pooch’s head. “Honestly, Wags. If you’re planning to make a showbiz comeback, it ain’t gonna be as the second coming of Winsome Witch.”

“Aww,” grumbled Bolt. “That wasn’t very supportive of you. I’m getting better little by little, honest. Rhino will vouch for me, right pal?”

The hamster wrung his paws nervously. “Well, I’m not saying ‘no’, but ‘little’ might be just a wee bit of an overstatement.”

“Nonsense!” said the shepherd with supremely misplaced confidence. “When the stars align just right, I can do sleight-of-paw wonders.” He placed the three plastic cups in front of him, closed his eyes, wiggled his paws frantically, and droned his sure-fire three-word conjuring mantra. But when he turned the cups over one by one, they were empty.

“Oh well -- must be too cloudy for the stars to work their spell. Or something along those lines,” groused Mittens. “Besides, you don’t have to worry about inventing a new career for yourself. Your old one is gonna get you plenty noticed soon enough. I overheard Penny’s mom on the phone yesterday. Sounds like we’ll all be headed off to a convention in Europe a few months from now. They were calling from London, or Paris, or Rome, or -- someplace like that.”

“Ooooh, I’d like going to London!” said the little rodent excitedly. “We could spend the day shopping at Grace Brothers Department Store, or drop in on that eccentric Mr. Bean fellow.”

“Uhhh… none of those are real… ” began Mittens, holding up her right foot with index digit extended. Rhino either didn’t hear the cat, or chose to ignore her.

“Maybe we can take a day trip to Torquay and do a cut-rate overnight stay at the Fawlty Towers Inn,” the hamster pressed on with enthusiasm. “Or perhaps head off to West Midlands just in time for one of Hyacinth Bucket’s candlelight suppers.”

“We can’t, because… ” Bolt started off, holding a paw to his brow and shaking his head with a pained expression.

“Of course -- you’re right!” agreed the little rodent, nodding eagerly. “We’d never get there in time for dinner. Still, I’d love to see that Royal Doulton china with the hand-painted periwinkles she keeps talking about up close and personal.”

Bolt winced uncomfortably. “No, that’s impossible, Rhino. Those are all fictional people and places, I’m afraid.”

The hamster screwed up his face skeptically. “Since when are London and Torquay fictional places?” he asked incredulously.

“No, no, no! That’s not what I… ” began the pooch when Mittens tapped him on the shoulder.

“Never mind that,” said the cat, hoping to change the subject from Rhino’s reality misapprehensions. “If it’s a little dose of attention you’re lookin’ for, this TV-Con will be just the thing. Heck, might as well get your front foot all flexed and ready to pawprint some glossies.”

“Hmmm,” mused the shepherd. “Wonder if Penny will have new pictures taken of herself and me. Whaddya think, guys? Should they shoot me full on, with a disarming smile? Or maybe take a distinguished right profile photo instead?”

Mittens wrinkled her face in amusement. “I’d recommend the profile, Wags. It’s only half as frightening.”

“Just don’t do a left profile -- unless you’re trying to capture your more sinister side,” added Rhino with a giggle.

“Har-dee-har-har!” said Bolt as he stuck his tongue out at his two teasing friends. “Anybody ever tell you guys you’re almost as funny as a cement parachute?”

Mittens shook her head and chuckled. “Hey, at least I haven’t got my head stuck in the clouds. Regardless, I’d rather do something active right now. I’ve already taken in a bushel basket’s worth of tunes today, and yakking about publicity pics is about as fascinating as watching clothes tumble around in the washing machine.”

The little shepherd thoughtfully scratched an ear. “Okay -- I’ve got an idea for something we can do. Follow me.”

II. Brand New Cadillac

From out of the darkness came an exasperated feline sigh. “So, whose bright idea was it to go play hide-and-seek already?”

“Yeah!” chittered an annoyed rodent’s voice from another corner of the pitch blackness. “I remember saying something about us playing Cops and Robbers. But nobody listened to me. I could’ve gone for a good old-fashioned fake shoot-‘em-up, myself.”

“Well, Penny and I always have fun when we play hide-and-seek,” whined a canine voice between them. “We’ve been known to spend hours doing that in the big sunflower patch by the barn, and we never get tired of it.”

“That’s because Penny couldn’t smell a dead skunk at twenty paces,” the cat protested. “All humans stink at this! I mean, look at us -- we’re all world-class sniffers. My schnoz can pinpoint a stale calzone in a garbage can three alleys over, so finding an overripe dog or hamster is a breeze. And Rhino can ferret out a peanut butter bar through a three-inch wall.”

“She’s right, you know,” agreed Rhino.

“And speaking of experts, Bolt,” said Mittens. “You’re a dog. Trackin’ things by smell is sorta your… thing.”

“Well, that’s why I decided to squirrel myself away in the car trunk,” groused Bolt. “I cycled past the back of the car, hopped onto the hood to break my scent trail, and crept my way across the metal and glass parts before hiding in a blanket. The trunk is really spacious in this new Cadillac Penny’s mom just bought. How did I know she would close the door and accidentally lock us in?”

“We still found you pretty fast, though,” came the hamster’s chittering response. “Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it now. The car’s moving, and we might as well see where it takes us. Maybe we’ll end up at the beach, or the park, or… or someplace truly exciting, like a gangster gunfight! Pow! Pow! Pow!”

“You can have that kind of excitement all to yourself, if that’s where we wind up,” said Mittens nervously. “But you’re right about one thing -- we gotta stay put till the car stops. It’s not safe to jump out of a moving vehicle onto a highway. You know I speak from experience here, don’tcha Wags?”

“Yeah,” sighed the pooch. “I went flying out of a moving truck, downhill off a train, and away from an animal control van during our cross-country trip. You don’t have to tell me four times… ”

“It takes balls to jump off a moving vehicle that much,” offered Rhino. “No, seriously -- it’s way easier to manage it inside a hamster ball than out of one. A ball rolls a whole lot more gracefully.”

Eventually, the car came to a halt. Mittens felt around the back end of the trunk lock mechanism until she found a lever, which popped the trunk door open and brought bright sunlight streaming in. To their left, the three pets saw a large sign emblazoned with the words “Shop ‘N’ Wait.”

“Ah, nuts!” said the little rodent in a disappointed voice. “If we were gonna pick the dullest possible destination, I don’t see how we could have done worse than this.”

Mittens pointed at the placard below the main one that said “Ye Olde Scrapbook Emporium.”

“I stand corrected,” grumbled Rhino.

“Huh,” said Bolt with more than passing interest. “I’ve never been to the supermarket before. Wonder why Penny’s never brought us here?”

The cat shook her head. “I’m sure she thinks we’ll just wind up getting in trouble or something. And I’ve got a feeling the health department will have something to say about that anyhow.”

Rhino balled his paws up into tiny fists and glared. “Well, y’know what?” he asserted. “I think it’s entirely presumptuous for humans to assume we’re just a bunch of furry mischief-makers. I say we stick it to the man and go exploring inside. Listening to The Clash yesterday revved up my iconoclastic streak, gotta say.”

“Uh, Rhino,” said Mittens skeptically. “On a scale of one to ten, us sneaking into a grocery store ranks about minus-five on the sticking-it-to-the-man scale.”

“Baloney!” the hamster admonished. “We’re very limited in terms of evildoing capacity. This is likely our best chance to shine when it comes to out-and-out rebellion.”

“Guys, guys, guys!” shouted the dog with as much authority as his voice would allow. “We’ve never been in a supermarket before, and may never get the chance again. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m keen to have as few regrets as possible when my last day comes around -- and that means experiencing life to the fullest. I say let’s go exploring.”

The little rodent bounced up and down inside his ball with glee. “Now you’re talkin’, Bolt! Spoken like the courageous hero I’ve come to know and love. Have I told you lately how bey-awesome I think you are?”

“Oh, almost every day, last I’ve kept count,” laughed the pooch. “C’mon, let’s go, guys.” Dog and hamster excitedly hopped out of the trunk and headed for the store entrance.

“Ugh!” griped Mittens. “Looks like it’s up to me to keep Meriwether Doofus and William Bark outta harm’s way.” She jumped to the pavement, shouting, “Hey, you two -- wait for Snark-a-gawea!”

III. Lost in the Supermarket

The three awestruck pets slowly entered the store, looking about them in wonder like penitents reaching a sacred pilgrimage site. A seemingly endless bank of fluorescent lights garishly illuminated the space. Shoppers bustled back and forth pushing carriages in various states of plentitude. Aisle after aisle of shelves holding all manner of goods stretched as far as they could see. Along one side, several employees were hard at work stacking up displays featuring everything from boxed pies and wrapped éclairs to fat bananas and juicy tomatoes.

“Look!” said Rhino, pointing a clawed digit off to the right. “There’s Penny! Looks like she and her mom have an empty cart and a super-long list. She’ll be shopping for an hour, at least. We’ve got all the time in the world to go deep-diving into uncharted waters.”

“Eh -- you guys go and search for buried treasure all you like,” yawned Mittens. “Me, I think I’ll take a quick catnap, if you’ll pardon the expression.” She sauntered away to the produce section, leaving Bolt and Rhino to decide the best pathway to adventure.

As the pooch and rodent reached the dairy case, Bolt whimpered in frustration. “Y’know, Mittens is right. I don’t think being a magician is in my future. Haven’t got a knack for the art of illusion, if I really want to be honest with myself.”

“It’s okay, pal -- you know, we can’t all be great at everything,” said Rhino consolingly. “Achilles had his heel, Superman had his kryptonite, and elephants have their mice. You’ve got to admit, magic is a more dignified failing to have than Styrofoam exposure, am I right?”

The little shepherd nodded. “Very true, Rhino. Perfection is next to impossible, though it’s not easy to admit that.” He paused and furrowed his brow in thought. “Huh -- wonder if maybe I’d be better at some other showbiz skill. Like juggling, for instance.”

“Gee -- I dunno, Bolt,” said the hamster dubiously. “That takes some serious hand-eye coordination. If you’ll snag a couple cartons of eggs from off that shelf over there, I’ll show you what I mean.”

After the dog had finished placing three egg cartons on the floor, Rhino reached in and grabbed three large pieces of hen fruit. He put them on the ground, taking one of them and tossing it rhythmically back and forth between his paws. “Now this is simple,” he said in a professorial tone. “Anybody with half a brain can do this.” He reached over and grabbed a second egg, flipping them one after the other from paw to paw. “Adding a second object -- well, that’s still awfully easy if you concentrate just a minimal amount. Nothing to it.” While keeping both white ovals in the air, the hamster deftly grabbed a third cackleberry and added it to the whirling airborne duo. “Now this… ” he said as he effortlessly juggled the three eggs in a balanced circle, “…this is where things get a wee bit more demanding. You constantly have to keep your charges airborne or disaster strikes. Especially if you’re juggling breakable stuff or a running chainsaw.”

Bolt watched in fascination. “Y’know, it looks easy enough to me. I think I’ve got this.” The pooch sat up on his haunches, his front paws in the air. “Tell you what -- why don’t you toss me one egg at a time, and I’ll give it a go.”

One by one, the hamster caught the whirling ova and set them back onto the floor. “It’s not quite as easy as it looks, but if anybody can figure this out first time up to bat, it’ll be you, I’m sure. Okay -- heads up!”

Rhino lobbed an egg at Bolt, which sailed over the little shepherd’s left shoulder and splattered on the floor. “Hey!” yelped the dog. “I wasn’t ready! A little more notice next time, okay?”

Despite ample warning, the second tossed egg sailed over Bolt’s right shoulder, falling to the ground with a noisy smack.

“C’mon now!” shouted the little rodent. “Focus! Focus! Try it again.” This third attempt zoomed between the pooch’s long ears like an expertly kicked football field goal, joining its carton-mates in a gloppy puddle.

“No -- you don’t get three points for that!” moaned Bolt. “A little lower, if you please. Give me a chance here, willya?”

Finally, egg and dog paw met with unbroken success. The shepherd nonchalantly tossed the white oval between his front feet. “Okay, so far so good,” said Bolt. “Gimme another one.”

The second joined its double in an awkward alliance, the little shepherd still managing to keep them airborne.

“Aaaaaand now!” yelled the pooch as Rhino sent a third egg on its wobbly way. The dog miraculously kept the uneasy ovoid trio circling, at least at first. Sadly, his good fortune would be short-lived, as Bolt started to lean left trying to adjust for an especially errant toss he had just made. His momentum carried him headlong into a stacked display of jarred olives with a surprised yip. Luckily, the shepherd was unhurt -- but a cascade of green glass toppled to the floor with a loud crash, crushing the egg cartons and spewing glass and martini fruit everywhere.

Dog and hamster looked sheepishly at the impromptu makings of an olive-glass-eggshell omelet. “I don’t know about you, Bolt -- but I think we’d better, um, check out the pet food section. Yeah, that’s the ticket,” said Rhino nervously.

“Right behind you,” replied the pooch as the pair dashed several aisles away.

The store PA system, which up to this point had been announcing specials on bath tissue and corned beef hash, changed subject matter abruptly. “Attention! Attention, all personnel! Cleanup on Aisle Eight. You drop it, we mop it!”

IV. Spanish Bombs

Meanwhile, Mittens had wandered her way into the produce section. Bins full of oranges, lettuce, and cauliflower stretched before her -- a most bountiful harvest. She strolled among the various fruits and vegetables looking for an optimal spot to snooze when she spotted a high shelf containing a long row of good-sized pumpkins. And this wasn’t just any old collection of pumpkins, no sirree. The sign hanging from the shelf proudly proclaimed them to be Spanish pumpkins, freshly flown in from Seville.

The cat twisted her muzzle into a doubtful frown and chuckled. “Yeah, right -- Spanish pumpkins. They just look like garden-variety nascent jack-o’-lanterns to me. Some places will come up with any old excuse to quadruple the price.”

Mittens hopped deftly up onto a bin filled with apples, dislodging several onto the floor in the process, before leaping onto the shelf and sequestering herself between two especially ripe-looking orange gourds. From her crow’s-nest vantage point, she could pretty much take in the whole store. A woman shopper immediately to her left tried to quiet her fussy toddler in the cart’s front seat with a giant lollipop. A man in a suit peered intently at the ingredients printed on a soup can. Two old ladies squabbled over a shopping list, waving one arm while pointing at two different boxes of cereal in their basket. Far off to the left, Penny stood in the frozen food section, trying to decide which flavor of ice cream to add to what was now a half-cart’s worth of comestible treasures.

“Eh,” the cat thought lazily. “Seeing all these customers hard at work is making me sleepy.” She had just rolled over onto her side when she heard an irritated voice to her right.

“Hey! Whaddya think you’re doing up there?” it shouted. Mittens turned her head and saw a pimply-faced 19-year-old man glaring at her. “Ohhhh, it’s you again, is it?” he barked. “Lost again, eh? I don’t know who your owner is, but they sure don’t seem to keep good tabs on you.” The cat immediately recognized him as the manager from Spender’s Gifts at the mall.

“Huh. He must be picking up some extra bucks on the weekends working here,” she thought. “Not that I’m surprised. Being a mall shop manager isn’t exactly the pathway to upper-middle-class riches.”

A cunning look crossed the young man’s acne-encrusted face. “I don’t see your ill-natured canine friend around here anyplace. And I’ll bet there’s another reward out for your safe return. C’mere, you mangy critter.” He poked at Mittens with his damp mop, trying to push her to the floor.

The cat jumped to her feet with a spitting hiss. “You had me at a big disadvantage before,” she thought with irritation. “But this time, I’m armed to the teeth with Iberian grenades!” One by one, she toppled pumpkins off the shelf trying to ward off her adversary. “Bombs away, zit-face!” she snarled. “Ándale, ándale! Go kidnap somebody else already!” With a defiant yowl of “Hasta la vista, baby!” Mittens finally hit her mark with the last oversized gourd, covering the man in seeds, pulp, and rind as it split open over his head and knocked him to the floor with a dazed groan.

The supermarket’s loudspeaker interrupted its offers of specials on pickled herring and dishwashing liquid to announce another mop-up issue. “Attention! Attention, all personnel! Cleanup on Aisle One. If it’s a slushy mess, we’re at our best!”

V. Cheapskates

Mittens hastily scrambled between several bemused shoppers, turning a corner while knocking over a piled display of canned fruit cocktail in the process, when Bolt and Rhino spotted her.

“Hey, over here!” the dog shouted as his friend skidded to a screeching halt. “Wow, what’s with you? You look like you just escaped from a King Kong rampage or something.”

“Nah, nothing as scary is that,” chuckled the cat. “The man coming after me was easy to fend off, especially when I started doing a magic trick of my own.”

The hamster did a double take. “You’re joshing, right? I thought fancy legerdemain was beneath you. What kind of sleight-of-hand did you manage to perform, anyway?”

Mittens grinned impishly. “Let’s just say I was pushing pumpkins off a high shelf and making them come down squash.”

“Wow,” said the little shepherd while shaking his head. “You’ve sure got more magical talent than me. Any chance you could teach me your trade secrets?”

“It’s not as hard to do as you think, Wags… ” began the cat in a tone of voice reminiscent of a mother teaching her toddler how to count to ten, when Rhino interrupted her.

“Hey, Mittens!” the little rodent offered in a low voice. “I’ve got a great guessing game we can play. What’s brown, shaped like a log, and sits on a cracker?”

“Ewww, Rhino! You interrupted me for that? That’s disgusting!” yowled the cat indignantly. “I’m really not in the mood for litter box humor just now.”

“No -- no,” said the pooch excitedly as he pointed to his left. “I think he’s talking about something else. Something yummy, too.”

Mittens frowned. “Coming from a critter who’ll eat almost anything organic no matter how gross it is, that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

“It looks like sausages to me, cat,” Rhino exclaimed excitedly. “I don’t know about you, but that’s music to my mouth.” The cat turned to see a couple of tables festooned in gaily colored crêpe paper. An adjacent sign proudly proclaimed “The Cabbage Merchant: Purveyor of Fine Foods. Free Samples!” as a nearby woman in an apron placed tidbits on crackers and in little paper cups.

“You know the old saying about stuff like that, right?” said Mittens. “People who love sausage and respect the law should never watch either one being made.”

The dog broke into laughter. “Uh huh -- like that’s gonna stop me. Pig innards aren’t even the nastiest thing I’ve eaten today.”

Mittens stuck her tongue out in distaste. “Now there’s a mental image I didn’t need.” She stopped and sniffed the air inquisitively. “Although, I’ve got to admit, it does smell pretty good off in that direction. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea to, y’know, check it out. Might be worth a taste, at least. Besides, Bolt, if what you just said is true, anything on that display table has gotta be a step up from whatever nasty thing you were scarfing down earlier.”

The three pets surreptitiously crept to the side of the table furthest away and considered their options. “Hmmm,” murmured Bolt. “We definitely need to think in stealth mode here. Really go undercover, James Bond-style.”

“You think we’re gonna get our sausages shaken, not stirred?” the cat quipped.

“Shhhh!” cautioned the little shepherd. “We don’t wanna get caught.”

The hamster hopped up and down inside his ball excitedly while raising a paw. “Oooh, pick me! Pick me! I’m the very definition of covert. Especially since I’m the smallest one of us by far.”

“Absolutely right, Rhino,” Bolt whispered. “Mittens, how about if you open his ball and sneak him onto the table? Your paws are smaller than mine, and with no claws, you’re as silent as a Harold Lloyd movie. But keep as quiet as possible. This is kind of a risky maneuver we’re attempting.”

The cat’s face broke into a wry grin. “Eh -- why worry? There are times you gotta keep safety last on your list.” She silently popped the little rodent’s ball open, plucked him from his sphere, and snuck him up to the table’s edge.

The hamster crept as close to the woman putting out sausage bits as he dared -- and in no time, crackers and bread topped with tube steak bites, pate globs, and cheese wedges were noiselessly pilfered and snuck over to his salivating friends. Rhino paused briefly to nibble a salty whole-wheat cracker, then resumed his cloak-and-dagger foraging.

All was progressing smoothly until a passing nine-year-old boy blew their cover. “Whoa -- cool!” gushed the youngster excitedly. “Hey mom! Lookit that big fat rat over there. Can we go to the pet store and buy one of those?”

“Big fat WHAT?” yelped the woman cutting chunks of brie as she gaped wide-eyed at the rodent standing next to her elbow. Rhino grinned at her, saluted, and dashed to the table’s edge while toting a saltine. “Ahhhh! Rat! Rat! Rat!” she screeched. “Get away from me, you creepy thing!”

In short order, the hamster jumped onto Bolt’s head while the pooch and his feline partner in crime dashed for safety. The shrieking woman leaped up, knocking the tables over and sending their contents airborne. Crackers, cheese, and processed meats flew in all directions, raining down like manna from a deli heaven. The three pets took advantage of the distraction and high-tailed it into the paper goods section.

The public address system interrupted its offers of price breaks on Greek yogurt and dried lentils yet again. “Attention! Attention, all personnel! Cleanup on Aisle Nine. Hey c’mon everybody -- quit making a mess already, willya?”

VI. Train in Vain

As soon as the proverbial coast was clear, Bolt ambled off to the bakery aisle to hunt down stray pastry bites. His cat and rodent pals crawled into a nearby shopping cart half-filled with cereal and cookie boxes and began to quarrel over which ones to tear open and sample first.

After a couple minutes, Rhino looked up wide-eyed from a shredded container of cornflakes. “Uh, Mittens,” the hamster said apprehensively through a mouthful of cereal. “Is that Penny and her mom I spy finishing up in the checkout line? I don’t know about you, but I think we’d better scoot back to the car, and pronto. It’s a long trek back to the farmhouse from here, and I’m feeling too worn out to do that jaunt in my plastic ball just now.”

The cat dropped her half-eaten lemon sandwich cookie in panic. She had been inadvertently abandoned at the mall not that long ago and wasn’t keen to repeat the experience. “Bolt!” she yelled. “Hey, Bolt! C’mere! It looks like we’re gonna be left stranded over here. We gotta hit the exit before Penny and her mom get to the car. This place isn’t exactly my idea of home sweet home.”

The little shepherd dropped the powdered donut sample he had been munching on and frantically dashed up to his friends. “Don’t worry, guys -- I’m on it!” he shouted as he leaned into the shopping cart with his front paws and began frantically pushing it forward.

“Hurry! Hurry! Before they get away!” the hamster howled.

“No! No! No!” screeched Mittens. “I don’t think this is such a good idea. Hey, wait -- wait! Bolt -- watch out for that… ”

At the checkout line, Penny and her mom had just finished putting the last bags into their cart when they heard a series of loud crashing sounds. Joined by the surrounding cashiers, baggers, and shoppers, they turned in the direction the noise was coming from.

“Mercy me!” said Penny’s mom while scratching her head. “What is that awful racket? Sounds like a revival of the musical ‘Stomp’ going on over there.”

Everyone stared in surprise as a canine-powered cart sped past them and smashed theatrically into the entrance door, shattering all its windows. At least it looked like a dog might be pushing it. He and a pair of creatures in the cart were slathered in what appeared to be half the store’s offerings, the squashed remains of bananas, tomatoes, pies, and éclairs covering the trio. Upon seeing Penny and her mom, the three apparently unhurt and contrite miscreants respectively whined, mewled, and chittered.

The girl hid her face in her hand. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess,” she groaned.

The grocery’s loudspeaker once more interrupted its cheerful touting of discount strawberries and drain cleaner. “Attention! Attention, all personnel! Cleanup on Aisles Two… Three… Four… Five… Six… and the front entrance. And this time, bring a M*A*S*H unit along. It’s food carnage out there. Oy vey… ”


End file.
